


Call you mine

by Strange_johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable, Boys Kissing, Cute, Fluff, Idiots in Love, John is being honest with Sherlock and himself, M/M, Nervous Sherlock, Nervousness, POV Sherlock Holmes, Parentlock (mentioned), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, late night conversation, my boys are being adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock
Summary: John has a new answer to a question Sherlock asked him when they were working on their very first case.





	Call you mine

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was finished on my Birthday :D hope you enjoy
> 
> Thank you to the Wonderful Amelia for her beta work :D

“I got a new answer to your question.” 

I look up from what I’ve been reading and my eyes find John’s. He’s wearing his glasses again, they suit him very well, I have even been fiddling with the lightbulbs in our living room so he has wear them more often. It’s selfish, but you would do the same if you could see him like this, all grumpy and middle-aged and wonderful. He has adorable lines from laughing that are permanently drawn onto his face, even when he tries to look at me all serious like he is now. I know, of course, that the military man, the captain, is still in there. I can see it in his eyes.

“Which question?” I inquire sounding uninterested, while I try to figure out when I had last asked him a question that went beyond wanting tea, or me forgetting what day it was. Surely, I had not asked him anything he could have changed his mind about for at least three weeks.

“When we were working our first case you asked me what my last words would be. Well, you put it differently, but that was the gist of it.” John licks his lips, his tongue only visible for a few moments. He has had this conversation before, with himself. I would have heard him thinking if he only now had come up with it. I force myself to glance back to the book on my lap and not show too much interest. It would only motivate him to share less fascinating thoughts with me all the time, and even as his best friend I haven't the time to listen to tales about his dull work all the time.

“That was ten years ago, John.” I raise an eyebrow but close the book. John looks serious, and I might be insensitive, but I realise this is not the best time to learn Rosie’s favourite book by heart for those moments when that might come in handy. He seems to appreciate the gesture, nods slowly.

“I know. I was quite convinced of the answer I gave you then. I mean, it was what I thought in Afghanistan. But then….” He picks up his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “My new answer isn’t new either. When I was stuck in that well, and I thought Eurus would let me drown down there, I… I found new last words.”

I lean back in my chair slightly to be able to look at him better. He seems nervous, but determined, his small, beautiful hands clenched into fists on the armrests. I feel a need to cover them with my own, pry them open, interlace our fingers. Maybe there is a chance in this to for me to hug him again. I would like that, preferably without the crying of course. John looked beautiful in pain, beauty has a certain fragility. The picture of him, tears on his cheeks, will be burned into my mind forever and I couldn’t delete it if I wanted to.

“I wasn’t …brave enough to share them with you, and then, just yesterday I made myself aware that you are my best friend, I mean, we are raising a child together and I can tell you anything.” He chuckles, a warm, but not entirely honest sound. I can’t blame him. Neither of us is good at talking about sentiment, especially to each other. “I mean, it’s not like I could keep anything from you anyways. Just, in this, please, don’t deduce it. Let me say this. I need to say this.”

His glasses clatter as he puts them on the table, and I look away to be able to fulfill his request. I wish I could close off my other senses as well.

“Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice, small as it may be. “As I said, when I was down there I thought I was going to die, I thought she would do anything to stop you from saving me. So, my new answer…” He takes a deep breath and I imagine his tongue dancing over the corner of his mouth again as I stare at my own hands, still clutching at the book, which looks tiny as I hold it. Rosie has bitten into the book back and the imprints of her tiny teeth only make it more precious now. I am so very fond of the little Watson.

“My new answer to your question is: Please let me live so I can be with my daughter and my Sherlock.”

I look up at him then, and even as I have seen him a thousand times over the last ten years I am surprised at how handsome he is, all feelings painted on his face with clear and precise strokes. My inability to read the complex emotions John is capable of has managed to drive me nearly insane before. Now, behind an anxiousness there is something I have never seen him show so openly.

“My Sherlock.” I have to taste the words, hearing them is somehow not enough. At my repetition, he looks directly at me, and the fear is gone. The only thing left is the expression I can only describe as fondness. He has never looked at me like this.

John looks at his hands and then back at me and I realise this is not about last words or near-death experiences, but it’s a mere introduction to what he really wants to say, and I can’t wait another second to hear it, because it should have been said that first night at Angelo’s.

John reaches a hand out for me, but pulls it back half way, lets it drop to his lap.

“Will you let me call you mine, Sherlock?” His question is uttered with a voice so soft I instinctively lean closer to understand him better. Finally hearing what I always wanted to hear him say hits me like a wall. I am still unprepared for it; my mind unable to understand; my heart close to bursting. I saw it coming, but made myself believe it was wishful thinking, those looks and casual touches. But my John is so brave, brave enough to finally give us both what we crave.

“Will you kiss me?” I ask, unable to force the yes out of my throat just yet. My hands are shaking, I feel sweat prickle at the back of my neck. This is a one hundred and eighty degree turn in our relationship and there is still that fear that I could lose him now, that I want too much. John smiles, and the slight twitch of his lips is enough for all the tension to fall off of me, leave me dizzy.

“Yes. Yes, I will kiss you, if you want that.” He whispers, and he looks so soft, so brave. I can only nod at him and his smile grows wider.

We both move towards the other, leaning over to close the gap between our armchairs. Our knees are the first thing touching, brushing against each other and feeling his body heat is electrifying. Not for a moment do I close my eyes, in an irrational fear he might disappear at the slightest blink. John scoots closer on his chair and his hand touches my cheek. I can feel his breath on my face, a warmth that bleeds into my skin, I take it in and make it mine. My own hands haven’t stopped shaking. To myself I can admit that I’m nervous. Never before has a kiss mattered as much as the one that is about to occur. I don’t want to disappoint, my knowledge of how to act in this is nil.

John disappears from my sight within the fraction of a second. It takes me longer than that to realize this is not my worst nightmare come true but a very ridiculous situation. John, having leaned close to me, just fell off his armchair and is now sitting on the floor on his bum. He looks way too adorable for a man over forty, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me. A brief moment of surprise, then he joins in and we laugh and laugh, and I drop to my knees. We hold each other as the giggles wash away the tension from our bones and hearts.

When the laughter fades, I notice I am half in his lap and his fingers are grabbing at my shirt. I reach out a hand to wipe a happy tear from his cheek, and my eyes follow its path up, until they are caught by the raging blue sea.

It’s easy then, to press my lips to his in a kiss. The easiest, most natural thing in the world, and he pulls me close. I melt into his hug, he melts into me.

“My John.” I whisper against his mouth and the noise he makes is amused, fond, perfect. His arms close around he fully now.

“I played this all through in my head for weeks. Never thought I’d be falling onto my bum like an idiot, but the kissing is fantastic, so I’m not going to complain.” John kisses my chin. “Now, my Sherlock, will you let me take you to bed?”

 


End file.
